Arukh HaShulchan, Orach Chaim 317:19-27

Hook

In the sun-drenched courtyards of Aleppo, Baghdad, and Safed, the arrival of Friday afternoon was never merely a matter of checking the clock; it was a tactile, sensory transition marked by the scent of roasting cumin, the sweeping of stone floors, and the deliberate preparation of the home. As the afternoon shadows lengthened, the women and men of these historic communities engaged in a sacred dance of binding and releasing—loosening the tight, anxious knots of the workweek's commerce while carefully securing the vessels, spices, and garments that would carry them into the peaceful expanse of Shabbat.

This physical act of tying and untying, of establishing boundaries and creating space for rest, lies at the very heart of the laws of Koshair (tying) and Matir (untying) on the Sabbath. In the Sephardic and Mizrahi tradition, these laws are not experienced as dry, abstract restrictions, but as an exquisite, living choreography that harmonizes the physical world with the spiritual heights of the day of rest.

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Context

To fully appreciate how our sages and communities navigated the intricate laws of Shabbat preparation, we must ground ourselves in the specific landscapes, eras, and cultural realities that shaped their halakhic decisions and daily customs.

• Place: The Historic Jewish Quarters of the Levant and Mesopotamia

  Our journey takes us to the bustling Jewish quarters of Baghdad, Iraq; the historic alleyways of Aleppo, Syria; and the mystical, wind-swept hills of Safed in Israel. In these warm, Mediterranean and Middle Eastern climates, domestic life was deeply integrated with the outdoors. Courtyards were communal hubs, kitchens were semi-open to the elements, and clothes, water jars, and food vessels were constantly secured with cords, ropes, and textiles to protect them from heat, dust, and animals. The physical reality of daily life demanded a constant engagement with knots—securing water buckets over deep wells, tying up bundles of fresh herbs, and fastening the lightweight, flowing garments worn to beat the heat.

• Era: The Golden Age of Codification and the Mystical Renaissance

  We focus on the period spanning from the 16th century—the era of Maran Rabbi Yosef Karo, author of the Shulchan Arukh, who lived and taught in the kabbalistic center of Safed—to the late 19th and early 20th centuries, which saw the flourishing of Baghdad's legal and poetic traditions under the guidance of Rabbi Yosef Chaim (the Ben Ish Chai). This was an era of intense intellectual synthesis. Sages were not merely legal specialists; they were often master kabbalists and poets (paytanim) who sought to infuse every minor physical act, from the tying of a shoe to the wrapping of a turban, with profound cosmic significance.

• Community: The Organic Synthesis of Law and Song

  The communities of the Sephardi and Mizrahi diaspora—including the Megorashim (descendants of the Spanish exiles) and the Musta'arabi (indigenous Arabic-speaking Jews)—lived Jewish lives where there was no division between the rigorous demands of Halakha (law) and the emotional warmth of minhag (custom) and piyut (liturgical poetry). The laws of Shabbat were taught not only through formal legal treatises but also through the songs sung around the Shabbat table and the communal practices passed down from grandmothers to grandchildren in the domestic sphere.

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Text Snapshot

The following passage from the Arukh HaShulchan, written by the Eastern European sage Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein, addresses the core definition of the labor of tying on Shabbat, echoing and analyzing the foundational rulings laid down centuries earlier by Maran Yosef Karo in the Shulchan Arukh:

"כל קשר שאינו עשוי לקיום, כלומר שדעתו להתירו בו ביום, מותר לקשרו לכתחילה... וזהו יסוד הכלל של חכמים במלאכת קושר בשבת: שכל קשר שאינו של קיימא ואינו מעשה אומן, אין בו איסור תורה כלל."

“Any knot that is not made to last—meaning, that one’s intention is to untie it on that very day—is permitted to be tied initially... And this is the foundational rule of the Sages regarding the labor of tying on Shabbat: that any knot which is not permanent and is not the work of a professional craftsman carries no biblical prohibition whatsoever.” — Arukh HaShulchan, Orach Chaim 317:19

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Minhag/Melody

The Soundscape of Shabbat: The Maqamat and the Soul's Ascent

In the Sephardic and Mizrahi world, the transition into Shabbat is defined by a magnificent musical framework known as the Maqam system. The maqamat (singular: maqam) are a system of melodic modes used in Middle Eastern music, each carrying its own distinct emotional color, spiritual mood, and historical associations. For the Jews of Syria, Iraq, Egypt, and Jerusalem, the prayers of Shabbat are not sung to arbitrary melodies; rather, a specific maqam is designated for each Shabbat of the year, carefully chosen to match the themes of the weekly Torah portion.

On a Shabbat where the Torah portion deals with themes of covenant, binding, or building—such as the construction of the Tabernacle—the community might pray using Maqam Rast, the foundational, regal mode that represents stability, law, and structural alignment. The choose of maqam is an auditory reflection of the legal boundaries of the day. Just as the laws of Koshair and Matir establish what may be bound and what must be released, the cantor (paytan) uses the maqam to bind the congregation’s hearts to the specific spiritual theme of the day, guiding them through a structured emotional journey.

The Bakashot: Singing in the Dark Before Dawn

One of the most beautiful and culturally rich customs of the Syrian, Moroccan, and Jerusalemite Sephardic communities is the singing of the Bakashot (supplications). During the long winter nights, when the physical world is wrapped in cold and darkness, members of the community wake up in the middle of the night—long before the first rays of the sun touch the horizon—and gather in the synagogue.

For hours, sitting in the dimly lit sanctuary warmed by the heat of communal devotion, they sing complex, poetic petitions. These piyutim, written by great Sephardic luminaries such as Rabbi Israel Najara and Rabbi Yehuda Halevi, are set to the classical maqamat of the region.

The physical act of waking in the night to sing Bakashot is itself a form of "untying." Throughout the busy workweek, a person’s soul is tied down by the physical worries of livelihood, debt, and labor. By rising in the quiet stillness of the Shabbat night, the worshiper symbolically unties these earthly bonds. The poetry of the Bakashot frequently uses the imagery of binding and releasing:

"יְדִיד נֶפֶשׁ אָב הָרַחֲמָן, מְשׁוֹךְ עַבְדָּךְ אֶל רְצוֹנָךְ..." "Beloved of the soul, Compassionate Father, draw Your servant to Your will..."

Here, the soul begs to be drawn—bound by a cord of love—to the Divine, leaving behind the coarse, temporary knots of the material world.

The Tactile Rhythms of Shabbat Preparation

In the Sephardic domestic sphere, the laws of tying and untying directly intersected with the preparation of Shabbat food. In the Jewish homes of Baghdad and Aleppo, the primary Shabbat dish was the tbit (Iraqi slow-cooked chicken stuffed with spiced rice) or the dafina (Moroccan Shabbat stew). Because these stews had to cook slowly overnight on a shared communal oven or a covered stove, the pots were wrapped in heavy blankets and insulated materials to retain their heat—a practice known in halakha as hatmanah (insulation), discussed in Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chaim 257.

To keep these insulating blankets from slipping off the pots, domestic cooks would wrap cords or fabric bands around them. Here, the laws of Koshair became highly practical. A cook had to be careful not to tie a professional, permanent knot (kesher shel kayama) around the insulated pot, as they would need to untie it the following day to serve the hot food.

Instead, they practiced the art of the temporary loop or the simple tuck—securing the warmth of the food with a gentle, easily released fold. This domestic wisdom was passed down orally from generation to generation, transforming the kitchen into a space of active halakhic mindfulness.

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Contrast

To appreciate the distinct flavor of the Sephardic halakhic tradition, it is highly instructive to compare its methodology with that of the Ashkenazic tradition, particularly regarding the definition of what constitutes a "forbidden knot" on Shabbat.

The Sephardic Path: Objective Realism and Legal Clarity

The Sephardic approach to Halakha, anchored in the rulings of Maran Yosef Karo in the Shulchan Arukh, tends to favor objective, clear, and realistic definitions. When analyzing whether a knot is forbidden on Shabbat, the Sephardic tradition focuses primarily on two objective criteria:

1. The Nature of the Knot: Is it an artisan's knot (ma'aseh uman)—a highly complex, professional knot used by sailors, builders, or leatherworkers?
2. The Intent of Permanence: Is it objectively designed to remain tied indefinitely (shel kayama)?

According to the Sephardic tradition, if a knot is not a professional, specialized knot, and it is made with the intention of being untied in the near future, it is generally permitted to be tied and untied on Shabbat.

Maran Yosef Karo writes in Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chaim 317:1 that a knot that is not meant to be permanent, and is not an artisan's knot, carries no prohibition. Subsequent Sephardic authorities, such as the Ben Ish Chai in his work Halachot Year 2, Parashat Ki Tissa, confirm that the standard for "permanence" is based on the objective reality of whether the knot is meant to be left in place forever, or at least for a very significant period of time.

The Ashkenazic Path: Protective Fences and Subjective Intent

In contrast, the Ashkenazic halakhic tradition, as articulated by the Rema (Rabbi Moshe Isserles) in his glosses to the Shulchan Arukh, and later expanded by authorities like the Arukh HaShulchan, introduces a more subjective and time-bound standard of stringency to prevent accidental transgressions.

In the Ashkenazic tradition, a knot is often considered "permanent" (and therefore rabbinically or biblically forbidden) if it is intended to remain tied for more than twenty-four hours, or, according to some opinions, for more than seven days.

The Rema writes that it is the custom to be stringent and avoid tying any knot on Shabbat that is meant to last for more than twenty-four hours, even if it is a simple, non-professional knot. The Arukh HaShulchan Arukh HaShulchan, Orach Chaim 317:20 discusses this development, explaining how the Ashkenazic community established these protective temporal boundaries (24 hours or 7 days) to create a clear, uniform standard for laypeople who might not be able to distinguish between different types of professional and non-professional knots.

Respecting the Two Paths of Devotion

These two approaches represent beautiful, parallel paths of divine service:

• The Sephardic methodology relies on the classical, Talmudic definitions of the craft, trusting the individual Jew to understand the physical reality of their actions and maintain a clear, objective boundary between the sacred and the mundane. It prioritizes the peshat (direct, logical meaning) of the law, avoiding unnecessary burdens on the home that could diminish the joy (oneg) of Shabbat.
• The Ashkenazic methodology builds protective fences around the law, using time-based measures to ensure that even the simplest domestic knot does not cross the line into the creative labor of building and securing. It prioritizes communal uniformity and caution, ensuring that the sanctity of the day is protected by clear, easily measured limits.

Both traditions seek to honor the commandment to "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy" Exodus 20:8, showing how different historical and geographic realities can produce distinct, equally holy expressions of the same divine law.

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Home Practice

Reviving the Scent of the Myrtle: A Sensory Havdalah

One of the most accessible and sensory-rich Sephardic customs that anyone can adopt at home is the use of fresh, aromatic green branches—specifically myrtle (hadasim) or mint (nana)—for the blessing over spices (Besamim) during Havdalah.

In many Sephardic and Mizrahi homes, rather than using a silver spice box filled with dried cloves, it is customary to use fresh, living plants. The myrtle branch holds a particularly elevated place in Sephardic tradition, as it is associated with the mystical "three-ply" cord of life and represents the preservation of the extra soul (neshamah yeterah) that departs as Shabbat ends.

Here is how you can bring this beautiful practice into your home:

1. Gather the Herbs: Before Shabbat begins, gather several fresh branches of myrtle, rosemary, mint, or lemon verbena.

2. The Temporary Binding: Tie the branches together into a beautiful, loose bouquet. In keeping with the laws of Koshair, use a simple ribbon, a strip of raffia, or a soft piece of twine. Tie it with a simple loop (a bowknot) that is designed to be easily untied, ensuring that the act of preparing the spices remains completely permitted and harmonious with the spirit of Shabbat.

3. The Blessing: During Havdalah, as you transition from the holiness of Shabbat back into the workweek, hold the fresh bouquet. Recite the blessing:

   "בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה', אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא עֲשִׂבֵי/עֲצֵי בְשָׂמִים." "Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who creates fragrant herbs/woods."

4. The Release: Gently crush the leaves between your fingers to release their essential oils, filling the room with a fresh, living aroma. This physical engagement with the natural world connects us directly to the earth, reminding us that the holiness of Shabbat is meant to be smelled, felt, and tasted.

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Takeaway

The laws of Shabbat are often mischaracterized as a series of rigid, cold prohibitions. But when viewed through the warm, textured lens of Sephardic and Mizrahi heritage, we discover that the laws of Koshair and Matir—of tying and untying—are a profound meditation on the nature of human life.

Throughout the week, we are bound to our labors, our worries, and our creative struggles. We tie ourselves to our screens, our tasks, and our ambitions. When Shabbat arrives, the halakha invites us to step into a space where those knots are gently untied.

By understanding the boundaries of what we bind and what we release, we learn to master our physical world rather than be mastered by it. Guided by the majestic melodies of the maqamat, the ancient poetry of the Bakashot, and the clear, realistic rulings of our sages, we can enter every Shabbat with our hands open, ready to untie the knots of the past week and bind our hearts to the eternal rhythm of the Divine.